


solace

by pepsipink



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepsipink/pseuds/pepsipink
Summary: Sometimes, Noctis just wanted the world to stop - and only Gladio knew how to make that happen.[Written for GladNoct Week - Day 3: Noct loves to be comforted by Gladio's hugs.]





	solace

**Author's Note:**

> written out of guilt bc i only have 1 piece for gladnoct week lol (its not this)
> 
> last weekend i drank so much caffeine by accident (it wasnt an accident) that i threw myself into a panic frenzy and i ripped off my pants in the middle of my drive home so i guess this is self indulgent

Noctis struggled with a lot of things, and being royalty didn’t make any of it go away.

He remembers the look on his fathers face when his caretaker first dropped the news that Noctis had a plethora of issues going on in his head at the tender age of fourteen – it wasn’t quite disappointment, but there was clear animosity in his expression, and knowledge that he wasn’t going to be able to help in the ways that Noctis needed. And of course, Noctis didn’t blame him, because princes weren’t supposed to have anxiety, and as king, he had a shitton of other crap on his plate to deal with. He was a single father, as he was king, and all he could really do was be supportive, and try to understand him when things took a turn for the worst.

Even now, as an adult, it was just expected that his ailments would simply disappear once he matured, but they never did – he was too embarrassed to ask for anymore help, and tried clearing himself of all diagnosis so he wouldn’t have to deal with the overbearing staff that his father hired to assist him on a day to day basis.

When he moved out, he told his father that he would be fine, and that he’d seek help elsewhere, maybe some place that didn’t have such a bias of him as royalty, but he kept putting it off.

He was too busy – so busy, and there was so much to worry about, that he couldn’t consider looking for a therapist.

Most of all, he’s tired.

He’s so tired, and yet he can’t relax. He can’t sit still – finding solace in keeping himself busy, so he doesn’t have to think about how tired he is.

Noctis can always tell whenever somebody is concerned for him, and it makes things even more awkward. It’s the way his foot bounces whenever he sits, and how he constantly has to be doing things with his hands. He can’t sit in a quiet room, listening to music at incredible volume because it keeps his mind stimulated, and enables him to go about his tasks.

He sees it in Gladio’s eyes when he starts playing with his phone while they’re having a conversation, even though he knows very well that Gladio can’t tell if Noctis is even listening because his attention is placed elsewhere – but he swears that he’s listening, and he can repeat everything that left his mouth mere seconds ago.

It’s manic, and Gladio knows about these problems, but he’s always at a loss on how to fucking _fix_ them. And may the six bless him, because Gladio is so goddamn patient, even when he has no right to be, but he can tell that it’s getting to be exhausting, and now Noctis is hyperaware of his hyperactivity, and tears are brimming at the corners of his eyes, and he’s rambling on and on about _god_ knows what, but he can’t stop himself because he feels like he’s losing his own sanity and he’d do anything to keep a stable train of thought.

It was everything – it was the way Gladio was looking at him with concern, it was how he was trying so hard in school but it made him want to shut down everything because he just didn’t _care_ , and it was how he wished his father was able to pay more attention to him, and how he feels like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders – especially because he quite literally does, and how he can’t pinpoint an exact reason on why he feels this way, which makes it harder for him to make it all stop.

He’s walked around the room at least seven times by now, and his face is red and his mouth is dry from how much he’s been talking. He doesn’t even know how long he’s been talking for – but whenever he looks back at Gladio, it breaks him even more – and he falls to his knees because he’s finding it hard to breathe, and he’s practically tearing out his hair, and –

“Stop, stop.”

Noctis is shaking when he feels Gladio at his side, choking on dry heaves because he can’t regulate his breathing.

“Fuck – Gladio, I’m so sorry.” He’s buried his face in his hands, trying to hide himself from seeing Gladio’s judgment any longer. “I wish I were dead – I wish I were dead, but I don’t want to die – I’m so afraid of it.”

He weeps into his palms, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I can’t make it stop – it won't.”

He’s enveloped in warmth, Gladio having wrapped his arms around his smaller frame, lifting him into the air for only a moment. He’s shaking, and once his head makes contact with Gladio’s shoulder, he finds himself losing it all over again.

Noct is carried to the couch, placed gently on Gladio’s lap, remaining close to his lover’s chest.

He feels Gladio’s hands run through his hair, petting it down in slow, gentle motions, pressing his head above his collarbone. His warmth radiates around Noctis’s shivering body, and Gladio breathes deeply, keeping quiet as he allows Noct to get his panic out of his system.

He listens to the gentle beat of Gladio’s heart, and suddenly it’s all he can concentrate on – face nestling into his chest, trying to breathe with him.

“I can’t make it go away, Noct.”

He keeps his tone low, pressing a kiss to the top of Noctis’s head. Noctis closes his eyes, finally feeling himself relax after hours of mania, the heart palpitations having settled, and it’s getting a bit easier to breathe. Gladio doesn’t ease his hold on Noctis, trying to keep still to the best of his ability – and though everything in Noctis’s body screams for him to wriggle himself out of there, he stays put.

The room is quiet; the slow and steady beat of Gladio’s heart is the only thing filling Noctis’s ears.

“You’re not crazy. You’ve got a lot of shit you’re dealing with.”

Noct furrows his eyebrows, grasping onto the fabric of Gladio’s sweatshirt. His eyes well up with tears once more, but it’s different – it’s not out of shame.

“I can’t make it go away, but you don’t have to suffer quietly like that.” He says, “It’s not good. Bottling everything in until you explode.”

“I can’t help myself.” Noctis buries his face further into Gladio’s chest, “I don’t want to be seen like this – I’m not supposed to be this way.”

“Noctis. _Breathe_.”

Gladio tightens his hold around him, allowing the world to stay silent for moments more.

This was all he really needed; just small moments where everything stood still, where Noctis was allowed to shut off for seconds at a time. Where he wasn’t the chosen king, and the prince of an entire nation, and he could exist however he wanted to. He could stay in Gladio’s arms forever, breathing with him; where he’s nothing more than a young man who knows that he’s loved by the people he’s surrounded by, and that it’s something he never has to question.

Gladio takes Noctis’s hand, placing it over his chest. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he rests his head above Noct’s.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Gladio gives Noctis a gentle squeeze, “It’s alright. Things aren’t going to stay this way forever.”

He nods, trying to come to terms with his irrationality.

“I know. I just wish I had a different brain.”

Gladio laughs at that, pulling away only to kiss at Noctis’s forehead.

Through the panic, Noctis found solace. He needed a reminder every now and then that things would pan out the way they were meant to, and that taking a step back wasn’t at all selfish. Caring for yourself came with being human, and though Noctis was royalty, he was also only twenty years old, and that there was _time_.

And if he could sit back and do this every now and then, he’d be on the right track.

Gladio and Noctis sit this way for quite a while. Having the world stay still felt all too nice, and being embraced by Gladio made him feel _safe_. Even if there wasn’t anything that could cure him of his ailments, he always had his loved ones to rely on, and with them by his side, he knew that he could conquer anything that stood in his way. And having that knowledge was comforting in it’s own right.

A smile tugs at Noct’s lips as he stays tucked onto Gladio’s lap, finally finding that it was easier to breathe.

“You’re warm.” He says, “I like getting to listen to your heart.”

Gladio shuffles underneath him, a hand gently lifts at Noct’s chin, raising his head to meet his own, pressing a kiss to plush lips.

“You can listen for as long as you want. I’m not lettin’ go.”

Gladio pauses as Noctis resumes his position, eyes drifting closed as he fights off sleep.

“I love you, Noct. And I love your brain, too – even if it trips out sometimes.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.pepsipink.tumblr.com) / [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/sodapopcore)


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